


Charming Young Man

by Carbon65



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Do not post on another site, Gen, Graduate School, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/pseuds/Carbon65
Summary: Sometimes your childhood friends bring up the weirdest memories and you realize why you no longer do certain things.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Les Misérables Poisson d'Avril





	Charming Young Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estelraca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/gifts).

“I can’t believe your mom just sent these,” Feuilly says, poking at the pile of gloss 4x6 photographs spread across the coffee table and spilling out of yellow paper envelopes. In a few cases, the negatives are still there, poking out of their paper protection. “There must be a hundred pictures!”

Grantaire notices a shoebox full of pictures under the coffee table. A shoe box. She’s pretty sure that her mom has something similar in the garage that came from Bubbe’s house. Her parents were never big on pictures, but Bubbe used to buy those single use disposable cameras in the yellow or green wrapper that you’d use and take to the photo counter. She’d given them to R, too, when she was a little girl. When they’d cleaned out Bubbe’s house after her stroke, they’d found eight or ten shoe boxes of yellow photo envelopes, each carefully dated, and a treasure trove of cameras that hadn’t been developed yet, and a few that hadn’t been used. Bubbe was tiny, is tiny, and half the photographs have people’s heads cut off. R has a collage of them in her room, and she’s working on one for Bubbe.

Enjolras frowns. “You got these from my mom?” She settles on the couch next to Feuilly. “Why?”

Courf shrugs, attempting to be mysterious. Or at least as mysterious as you can be when you’re half covered in body glitter and sprawled bonelessly in a bright purple bean bag. 

“Helen sent them.” Combeferre confirms, holding up a note that he pulled out of the shoebox. “For umm, the slideshow?”

Grantaire didn’t know Mrs. Enjolras’ name. Or that Combeferre knew her. He supposes it maybe makes sense. She has only been pining for Enjolras for two years. Combeferre actually lives with her. 

She does realize at least half a second before Enjolras what slideshow they’re planning for. While, she kind of knew anyway, but this just confirms it. Enjolras is only a few weeks away from what will doubtless be a brilliant doctoral defense. Which will be followed by, what, if Courf, Bahorel, R, and Gavroche have anything to do with it will be a brilliant party to celebrate all of Enjolras’s achievements. Likely including one of those embarrassingly touching slide shows of Enjolras growing up and toasts from several people. Like a wedding, but with wizards robes instead of white dresses and almost no obligation to invite people you don’t want to see. Except maybe your grad committee, if Bahorel is to be believed. 

“Slideshow?” Enjolras goes pale. “Slideshow?” She squacks.

“Slideshow,” Combeferre agrees, shuffling through the photographs. “You know, for after your defense.”

Enjolras opens her mouth to object further, but no sound comes out. She swallows and tries again. “Courf, you… you can’t.”

He grins. “Why not?” His tone is playful but the words are gentle.

Enjolras stares at her hands. “They won’t take me seriously.” She fiddles with the couch cushion next to her.

“Who? Who won’t take me seriously?”

“Umm… Professor Madeleine?” She suggests.

“Cosette’s dad? I’m pretty sure Cosette’s dad stopped taking me seriously after I got glitter all over his daughter. And his daughter’s boyfriend. And his couch.” Courf is nonchalant.

Enjolras’s mouth opens and shuts several times and she moves her lips as though she wants to say something, she just doesn’t know what. 

“You’re, that’s… terrible, Courf.”

“Me?” He looks over at her. “Me, what about you?” 

“I don’t know what you mean!” Enjolras retorts, settling on the couch and aimlessly flipping through pictures.

“You got in an argument with professor Javert about whether the sky is blue.”

“The sky was not blue!” 

“That’s not the point,” Courf glares. “You can’t help arguing with him!”

Enjolras opens her mouth again, and then shuts it. She glares. 

“What’s this?” Feuilly holds up a picture. Its dark, and the light hits the glossy surface, but R can still see the image: a blonde girl with a mouth full of braces, wearing a pair of track pants and a jacket next. 

Enjolras looks at the photo and shakes her head. “No.” She reaches over for it. “No, no, no.” 

“What is it?” R leans across Feuilly to get a closer look. 

“Oh my God,” Courf cries. He goes digging through the pictures, and comes up with a second one which he presents to them. This one is of both Enjolras and a kid who must be Courf based on his large hair and brilliant green eyes. “That was when we thought tearable clothes were the coolest thing ever!”

“Did you rap?” Feuilly asks, with some trepidation.

Enjolras turns pink. Grantaire isn’t sure if its because she was less socially conscientious when she was twelve or because she was bad at rapping. Or both. Its hard to imagine an Enjolras who isn’t socially conscientious, but it’s also hard to imagine an Enjolras in pants with snaps running all along the sides.

“We might have,” Courf admits.

“Definitely, probably, maybe,” Ferre comments from behind a fan of photos that he’s sorting through. 

Grantaire goes and leans over his shoulder. Enjolras was a cute baby. 

The no longer baby in question glares, “I thought we swore we’d never speak of this again! You made a pact with me. We would never speak of this and that other thing we don’t speak of.” 

“You showed the video at my law school graduation party!” Courf complains.

“There’s a video?” Grantaire, Combeferre, and Feuilly ask in unison. Not because they need it for Enjolras’ post defense party. But because they need to see it.

“I umm…I might have it on my laptop,” Courf says. “Or, um, Enj might have it on hers. I think you used yours?” 

“Fine,” Enjolras does something like a half pout, half resignation. “If we dont watch it now, someone will end up showing it to Gavroche, and then Eponine will kill me.” 

“Why?”

“Because I umm… we were wearing tear-away pants.”

“Okay,” Feuilly agrees tentatively. It does seem like an irrelevent detail.

“And, umm, I might not have been very good at taking them off. They were tearable, and so I was I.”

“Did you break the lamp or did I?” Courf demands.

“Me, definitely me,” Enjolras admits, turning pink. “I think its even…”

An old home movie pops up, and oh wow. Enjolras doesn’t have a future career in stripping, but that’s okay because she’s very much capable of other things.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt,
>
>> Enjolras has always been capable of being terrible, but his friends know he hasn't always been good at it.
> 
> Sorry, I think the homophone was the only thing that hit. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> Post PhD parties are less of a thing in the US, but in Europe, they are like a wedding. There are toasts and speeches and gifts and lots of wine. One I went to also included a skit involving ostrich testicles. So, just... imagine that. For Enjolras.
> 
> Question, comments, concerns, or suggestions of additional activities for quarantine all welcome. Please stay safe and healthy, friends!


End file.
